Beautiful Monster
by LiKARU-chan
Summary: The claws were long and tapered to a threatening point, but the gleam in the monstrous yellow eyes was so very, seductively human. A RETELLING OF BEAUTY & THE BEAST WHERE THE BEAST COULD VERY WELL BE BEASTLY.
1. PROLOGUE

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**Full Summary**: "The claws were long and tapered to a threatening point, but the gleam in the monstrous yellow eyes was so very, seductively human." A retelling of Beauty & the Beast, where the beast is more human than he seems.

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PART ONE  
CLOCKS AND CATHEDRALS

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Beautiful Monster  
_A Retelling of Beauty & the Beast  
_**By Mi'Kadiru**  
Prologue

-……-

Had they been younger than I, my sisters definitely would have had different reactions than mine. The news that arrived along with Father was not only shocking, but I felt disgusted that I was being played as a bargaining chip. What was I, a poker piece? Apparently so, because my father's first words as he swung down from the saddle in front of our home for the first time in months were: "Get your things ready. I lost a bet in Newerton, so you're leaving us."

Needless to say I was speechless. What was **he **going on about? Newerton? That was practically a thousand miles away! "I'm **not** going to Newerton!"

Father snorted, eyebrows rising almost above his receding hairline. He finished untying his money purse from the saddle and then forced the reins into Serene's (my second eldest sister) hands. She didn't really have any say about whether she'd take the horse to the stable or not, because the look in Father's eyes as he pointed profligately toward it would have scared the shit out of anything. She rushed off, leaving me alone with Constance, my eldest sister, who was, it seemed, in shock.

If she was in shock, then I was about to faint dead away, something I'd never had any intention of ever doing in my whole life seeing as it would kill my pride like nothing else. Even thus, I felt the world spinning around me for a moment before I gave my head a small shake to clear my vision and watched in a sort of daze as Father tucked the money purse into his belt. Then he put his hands on his hips, towering above me menacingly. "You're going, Cherish, so get over it. I lost a bet and I'm an honest man-" Yeah **right** – this coming from the man that had just bargained off his youngest daughter! "-and since I can't pay the money, they're getting you, my youngest, understand?"

With that he pushed right past us and stormed off into the house. Any otherwise ignorant person would think he was half-mad with the agony over losing his youngest child, but Constance and I both knew his fury probably ebbed from that because he'd lost his money he probably hadn't had a drink in at least a few days' time.

Ten seconds after, we were both left standing in the courtyard, blinking quickly as our brains tried to process the information that had just been thrust into our knowledge more carelessly than . . . well, than a lot of things. We still were pretty disoriented when Serene came running at full sprint back from the stable. Tears filled her eyes and she looked as though she was about to have (or was already having) a nervous breakdown.

"Do you think he was serious!" she demanded, grabbing onto my sleeve and staring down at me. "He couldn't have been serious! Do you think he was, though!"

When Serene gets panicky, she tends to repeat herself.

After several "do you think he's serious!"(s), I finally drew my hand back and gave her a sound slap across the face. "Pull yourself together, Rene!"

Constance nodded desperately from beside me, hands clutched thoughtlessly in front of her and looking for all the world like it was the end of the world. "We – we've just got to calm down, that's right," she agreed, eyes wide and breathing labored. I began to grow anxious when I saw that my elder sister was practically hyperventilating and held my hands out just in case she fell over unconscious . . .

. . . which, fortunately, she didn't do, because I was a lot shorter and smaller than she was and I probably would have dropped her or broken my back trying not to. "Okay, calm down guys," I announced, trying to be the source of reason among a place where **I** was usually the emotional one. "Let's just stop and breathe for a second, okay?"

Silence settled as we took a deep breath and then realized it in unison.

"Now," I began after a few seconds, twisting my hands in the skirts of my gown. "Rene, you were closest to him – was he drunk?"

She shook her head.

Then I turned to Constance. "Connie, you read people well. Did he look like he was sick or something?"

She shook her head as well, though slowly, as though reluctant to do so, knowing what it would force us all to admit to ourselves.

Gasps escaped from my sisters' mouths and I squeezed my eyes shut hard. There was another short silence and then they both burst into loud, bawling tears, moaning and groaning to no end. For the first time in forever, I felt like crying too. Just what was going on exactly? I had a feeling that I wasn't really going to find out for quite some time.

I let Constance and Serene cry for a little while, both holding onto me painfully until it began to grow cold and the sky faded into cobalt. "If we stay outside we'll freeze." This, surprisingly, came from Constance, who, when she pulled away, looked perfectly calm. Her eyes weren't even swollen or red. She looked like nothing bad had happened at all. Serene wasn't so lucky – her face was pink and wet and she sniffed incessantly. We both looked, as we usually did, to Constance for guidance now and I was glad that I could go back to being the younger sister with less responsibility.

"We all know that Father likes me best," she said, smoothing out her skirts and adjusting the frilly cuffs around her wrists with as much composure as possible. After she was finished, she flipped her hair back over her shoulders with both hands and the black locks hung straight down her back in a way that was extremely similar to the way Mother's hair did. Her green eyes were almond shaped like Mother's, too. It wasn't a surprise **why** Father liked her best. "So I'll go talk to him. Stay here or something, but don't interfere." Constance cleared her throat and turned away, heading straight into the house with a confidence one wouldn't have thought possible if they'd seen her minutes before.

Serene was still sniffing a bit, so I leaned over and gave her a quick hug, forcing one of my well known grins in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Oh, Rene, don't worry about it," I joked, crossing my arms. "You know I wouldn't let that dog drag me anywhere unless I got something out of the deal, right?"

She didn't say anything, only stared at me with a sort of disappointment in her eyes. "Cherish," she said. "It's not funny."

It wasn't.

Constance returned ten or fifteen minutes later. Serene and I had moved ourselves to the wall and were currently leaning against each other for emotional support. I glanced up eagerly as I heard her footsteps approach, hoping to be greeted with a laughing, shining face, telling me that it was just another of Father's drunken ramblings.

But . . . she wasn't smiling. Or laughing. She looked completely calm – a calm that told me countless things. When she reached us, she kneeled down and swiftly pulled me into a hug, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. That's all it took.

I broke down and cried.

"I've never seen Father so angry," Constance whispered. Dawn was breaking and the three of us were huddled together outside in the courtyard. We hadn't even moved from the wall. I felt a lot safer with the two of them surrounding me, arms clutched around my middle as I held my usually smiling face in my hands, sobbing quietly. "He was rambling on and on about losing all his money and then thinking he could . . . win the next round, but he didn't . . ."

Feeling the hysteria still lurking within me, I let out a high pitched giggle, chest painfully tight around my heart. "Well he didn't seem so angry about losing me, did he? At least he'll have the rest of his money, right?" On and on I babbled until the words broke off into choking weeping and I was overcome with fear and grief once more.

Serene's arms tightened around me as she stared silently up at the red tinted sky. "When does she have to go?"

Constance's answer came immediately. "Today."

No one said anything else for a long time.

"We won't let him take you."

Rene nodded her agreement. I nodded too, although we all knew that it was not and could not be true.

-

True to my father's word, he had me out of the house and into a carriage before I had the chance to give my sisters, my best friends, a true goodbye. The last I ever saw of them was Serene collapsing into Constance's arms and a look of utter sadness filling Connie's eyes before the image was blurred over by tears and I had to blink. When I opened my eyes again, we were too far away for them to be visible anyway.

Father had decided that he was just too tired after his journey back, so he would stay instead at home whilst a trustworthy neighbor drove me to Newerton. And trustworthy indeed, was this man who appeared to be maybe in his early forties. His skin was gray and he may have been younger than he appeared. Father said this man, whose name was Greshold, lived to the north and west of us, but strange that I had never met him at our yearly Christmas party that we held annually for all neighbors within five miles . . .

I begged relentlessly that he pull over and let me return home, but he refused each time. I once tried even to leap from the side and fell into a heap on the side of the road, succeeding only in twisting my ankle and confirming my worst fears through the jingling sound that echoed from Mr. Greshold's pocket when he pulled me back up into the passenger's seat. Father'd actually bribed this "trustworthy neighbor" to take me to Newerton? Just who **was **this man that he'd gambled me to, that he feared him as much as to actually repay whatever debt he owed him? I doubted seriously that Father had been overwhelmed with guilt at the thought of not returning his spoils, as he had plenty of times "forgotten" to pay back money lost in gambles.

The ride was long and I remember every moment of it. Ten minutes down the road from my home and my head was already aching, my back hurting from sitting up so straight against the back of the carriage, and my eyes watering to no end. Just when I thought that this torture would reach no end, we suddenly pulled to a stop and I flew forward in my seat at the abruptness of it.

"Get out," snarled the once-stoic driver, shocking me with the vulgarity of his tone. What the hell had I ever done to him, anyway? "Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Naughton." The name he was using to so obviously refer to me was not only confusing but terrifying. Had . . . who **had** my father lost that bet to? Where **was** I? But most importantly - who had I become with the moment my father lay his faulty hand down and was instantly indebted into giving away his youngest daughter?

Before I could protest, a hand pushed me forward and I found myself falling forward, out of the carriage, out the door, and onto the hard gravel ground. "Damn it, man, what -"

"Well, well, well."

These words, simple yet tainted with a sort of terrifying warning, filled my ears quickly and left me with a dread so absolute I shan't forget it any time soon, no matter how long I live. Afraid as I was, I was surprised that I found courage enough to raise my eyes slowly up from the stones and dirt beneath me to the large black boots in front of me, the legs clad in patch worked brown pants, up, up, up to the face of a man who was not old, yet not young either. I was instantly repelled, but not by his face, which was handsome, but by the look in his eye. Was that . . . lust? _Oh, my God _. . ._ save me_ . . . .

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**From Me**: This story is the first in a trilogy of fairytale remakes I'm writing.

The second, Cinders & Glass, will be posted by Thanksgiving (this Thursday.)


	2. I : WOLVES

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**Full Summary**: "The claws were long and tapered to a threatening point, but the gleam in the monstrous yellow eyes was so very, seductively human." A retelling of Beauty & the Beast, where the beast is more human than he seems.

-……-

Beautiful Monster  
_A Retelling of Beauty & the Beast  
_**By Mi'Kadiru**_  
_Chapter One  
Wolves

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The bells that hung in the Newerton Cathedral were beautiful, and I remember that many of my gloomiest, saddest times were spent wandering around the two twin bell towers at all hours of the night and in the earliest hours of morning They rang out over the town at dawn to wake the workers, slaves, and servants and again at sunset to send us to sleep.

Mrs. Fig, the Naughtons' cook, took special pleasure in complaining about the Cathedral bells. "Oh, me poor achin' skull," she would moan, clutching her head in one hand and a butcher knife in the other and the maids, Tess and Camille, would roll their eyes and tell her to stop her bellyaching. Mrs. Fig would yell at them to get out of her kitchens and shouldn't they be off cleaning something? This was usually around the time that she would notice me lingering around the door and beckon me inside, tempting me with a comforting "There ye is, child" and some fruit.

With her graying hair that never, in all the years I ever knew her, seemed to ever be neither brown nor gray, Mrs. Fig, who preferred me to call her Auntie Fig or Figgie, was one of only two true sources of comfort in my life at the Naughtons'. If I'd had a rough day, and most days were, she was always there in the kitchen with open arms and freshly baked cookies. When I'd just arrived, scared and confused and grieving for the loss of my sisters, it had been she who had shown me to and helped me get settled into the room I was to share with Tess and Camille.

The whole of the Naughton household seemed intent on being as nasty as possible – especially Rein Naughton, whom my father had lost me to in that fateful hand of cards. Originally from Velour, a harbor town across the sea, Rein had married a girl native to Newerton (she'd been visiting an aunt who lived across the waters, or something) and sailed here with her after she'd gotten pregnant with their first child, a son whom Mrs. Naughton had named Galeigh after her grandfather, or so said Mary, head laundry girl and gossip aficionado of the Naughton manor.

I'd met Mary on my second morning, when she mysteriously appeared in my room and demanded that I give her all my soiled petticoats, dresses, and undergarments, and thoroughly shocking me. We'd certainly had servants at home, but none with such a direct, blunt way of speaking. After informing her, rather abruptly, I'm afraid, that I had no dirty clothing for her, her at first plain face lit up into a charming grin and she said, "If things continue like this every day, Miss, you'll be an extraordinarily filthy girl and we'll be fast friends." Mary made it her business to first find out all there was to know about me so she could reciprocate with just as much about herself (from her childhood in the lower ranks of the household to her grander, cleaner position today) and even more about everyone she worked for.

"I'm sure you've already met Master Naughton," she said dryly, and I shivered disagreeably. She clucked her tongue and shook her head. The color must have drained from my face, for she patted my cheek encouragingly. "Don't worry, he's not all so bad. Just try to make sure you muss your hair up a bit and try not to look so presentable all the time and perhaps he'll move onto someone else, Miss."

Her words, as reassuring as they were, did not qualm my fears.

I was introduced to the Master's family on my third day in the Manor. By family, I meant his children and both of his mistresses, the older-looking one holding a child no older than three years of age, while the younger woman, who looked to be around thirty or so, had a toddler hiding in her skirts. I was shocked, to say the least, and almost immediately felt sorry for the emotionless young girls and boy sitting to Master Naughton's right, positive they were his children. My father had always been rather piggish, but this man represented all that a woman would dream of and everything she should fear; a conundrum.

"And now we inspect the newest addition the household," he said silkily, leaving his children to stand before me. His brown hair was brushed to the side and dark, dilated eyes scrutinized me closely. A hand, which had probably never seen a day of work in years yet was still browned from the sun, reached for me and wrapped around my arm. "Well, at least you aren't the pig your father was. And here I was afeard you'd weigh in at more than our hog." The mistresses gave obligatory giggles and he smirked at them before turning back to give me another once-over.

"Eyes…lovely. No one around here has blue eyes, my dear – I find yours gorgeous. But your hair…is it naturally such a silver color? It will soon come to make you look years beyond your own. Have you ever thought to dye it with rhubarb or some such berry? Maybe Cecilia can help you."

He glanced over at the younger of his two women. "Of course, Cecilia would be happy to help you. I should think that it should be tied back in some such manner as well."

My hands curled into fists at my sides as I tried to clear my face of any emotion whatsoever. I refused to give in to this…this…**beast**.

He cleared his throat, calling me back to the real world. "Well anyway, your figure is good enough, though I should say I prefer smaller bosoms on my women, but again, we can solve that with a corset."

By now my face must have been bright red. How dare he offend me so, and in front of other people…other people I hardly knew? Had the man no taste for courtesy? Obviously not, for he moved on to comment about my legs, my neck, and most embarrassingly, about my waist. I had more than half a mind to slap him right across the face, but wasn't sure how I'd be to survive if I was thrown from this household to live on the streets of Newerton. One thing was for sure – I refused to become loose and earn my money through prostitution.

So I bit my lip and held my tongue with my teeth, knowing that to wag it would lead to my undoing.

The next day, for I arrived very late the day before, I was given a list of my duties. Aside from helping Camille and Tess clean the various rooms, I was to be the one who went with Figgie into the main of town every other day to purchase and sell goods. Apparently we had a rather good system going and the household made a majority of its money off of the vegetables, poultry, and etceteras that the servants farmed and took into market.

I was also assigned a new set of clothes – my clothes from home were to be cut up and used for rags. I was allowed to keep a larger piece of my skirt to tie about my hair.

As a servant, I wasn't (on a usual basis) allowed to **mingle** with the Naughton children. I was considered to be part of a different class than they were, so naturally we were kept separated, though at one time I might have gone to school with such children. This was probably the most difficult thing to learn to deal with – my loss of dignity. Rein Naughton made sure that my pride be trampled over time and time again, as long as it kept me in line and my tongue from wagging too fiercely.

-

It was raining the day that Figgie took me to Newerton Market for the first time. I remember because I used to love the rain, but for the first time in my life I hated it. The coldness bit at me, and the water was sharp and I could almost imagine it cutting at me and the water streaming down my face was blood instead.

Figgie, motherly as she was, insisted on getting me as prepared as possible for the experience before-time.

"This won't," she said, "be like most other markets ye've visited before, dearie. Newerton's a bit more lawless than your home, I's afraid, so be's a careful to stick close to your Auntie Fig." With that, she turned to grab an extra head scarf off of the pegs on the wall. "Oh – and if ye sees somethings ye thinks is a bit of an odder, than just be letting me know before ye tells anyone else, alright?"

Confused, I allowed her to tie the scarf gently around my neck to keep the harsh rain from biting any unnecessary skin and then up and back over my hair twice more. "What do you mean by odd, Aunt Fig?"

Mary, who was passing by with a tweed basket full of soiled clothes at the moment, heard my question and her eyes caught with Fig's watery ones. She turned her worried gaze to me moments later before continuing on as though nothing had happened, but at the door, stopped once more. Her voice, when she spoke, was full of a darkness and foreshadowing that I could only begin to wonder at."She means the wolves, Cherish. She's talking 'bout the wolves."

-

Figgie grossly overestimated my abilities to help at market, and I'm afraid that for the better part of that first day I held her back more than assisted as I was supposed to. In the end, Figgie sent me to sit at the edge of Market, near the path back to the Naughton manor and told me to wait for her to return, telling me kindly that we'd just have to practice at it.

Sighing, I sat down beneath what little cover I could find from the rain, just a little ways from a few vendors' carts. Searching with my eyes, I saw that one of the carts was filled with roses, the flowers protected by a carefully strung canopy that kept the water out.

Roses were extremely rare plants and as far as I knew, it was nearly impossible to grow them.

Unable to contain my curiosity, I got to my feet and rushed across the dirt road to the other side to marvel at the reds and yellows and pinks.

They were all equally beautiful, but I found myself fancying the red ones especially. Reaching out, I took one in my hand and touched the petals softly.

"They're a mite bit hard to grow this side of the ocean, but if ye've the right knowledge and the right means then 'tis not so bad," said the vendor, an elderly man with no teeth. He gave me a kind smile. "Go ahead now, lass, take one."

Surprised, I began my protests, but he insisted, plucking the half-opened, dark red rose I'd had my eye on from its place and handing it over. "Be careful, now, though, they've a sharper thorns than usual this year," he warned and showed me where I should place my fingers so that I wouldn't get cut.

"Thank you so much, sir, I truly appreciate it," I said quickly, curtsying like Figgie'd shown me. The old man waved it off and grinned good naturedly.

"Stop by any time ye'd like, child, and old Horris'll give ye a rose or two to take home to yer mother." Something suddenly caught his attention over my shoulder. "Oy! Figgie! What're ye doing in market on such a miserable day as this?"

I spun about, rose in hand, just in time to see Auntie Fig rush toward us from across the road...and the figure of a wolf disappear into the nearby, eyes glowing dark, dark amber.

-

**From LiKARU**: Sorry it's so short, I honestly couldn't bring myself to write any more. XP Plus, I felt like ya'll deserved SOMETHING before Christmas, right? Thank you so much for your reviews, I'll try to get around to reviewing them eventually, but no promises. Just so ya'll know, this has a lot to do with werewolves, so if you aren't into that sort of thing, I suggest you stop reading. Or at least, I plan on making it have to do with werewolves, or something like that. Whatever.

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Before forget, I'm trying to come up with a name for our Prince. Any suggestions?

Names I refuse to use:** Vincent, Xavier, Javier, Xave, Warren, Xack, Zack, Zavier.** They're overused.


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